


Drabbles

by buttfulmavinness



Category: South Park
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Drabbles, Gen, M/M, Porn, Smut, bad break ups, decomposed bodies, quite a bit of porn, really old works from ffnet, the usual shizzle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-01-09 16:15:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1148058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttfulmavinness/pseuds/buttfulmavinness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Grestophe drabbles. Also known as Gregory of Yardale/The Mole. Some shippy, some not so much. Slightly OOC as they are quite minor characters in the movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Random

Random

After the initial shock we were just sitting on the kitchen floor, staring at the table in front of us, completely in silence. That had been the scenery for couple of good minutes. The wooden floor was warm; the heater had finally started to work after kicking it enough for the last few days. A lonely fly was circling the room lazily. It landed on the table; I saw it rub its feet together. Christophe pushed his hand into his pocket and snatched a cigarette and a lighter. I closed my eyes and let my head slump against his shoulder. A warmth from the lighter wafted on my face and I smelled the lighter fluid. The cigarette's glow showed through my eyelids and I heard the little crackling when the tobacco leaves burned and made a white smoke trail in the air. I heard the fly buzz towards the body on the other side of the room.

"We should do something about that. The flies are going to attack it and I really do not like the idea of maggots on the kitchen floor." I nodded to his quiet words and rolled my head back as he stood up. I heard the shovel scrape against the floor and frowned at the noise; I knew it would leave a nasty scratch. Christophe walked up to the slightly decomposed body. He moved its head with the head of the shovel, examining where the spine would be easiest to cut through. The slime on the skin left a string attached from the body to Christophe's beloved shovel, causing him to turn up his nose in disgust. I opened my eyes and watched as the almost clean metal shined above the head like a guillotine, and thrusted through the muscle, windpipe and spine, making a squishy sound. Christophe continued to dismember the unknown male's body. I turned my head towards the ceiling, where the body had originally come from, and measured with my eyes how much of it would go under repair.

"If there is anything good in this, we now know where the awful smell has been coming from," Christophe said while cutting the right leg off of the torso. I hummed back and after a moment of silence, I asked:

"Should we let the police take care of this instead?" But as soon as those words left my mouth, I knew that we couldn't. Before Christophe could even answer the question, I continued:

"No, there'd be an investigation and they probably would find the other bodies in the backyard. That was a stupid thing to ask. I'll get the plastic bags," I said and stood up," Do you think we could fit him to the backyard too?"

"You expect me to dig the hole too, don't you? Je ne suis pas ton chien. Go dig your own holes!"

"Don't be so childish 'Tophe," I sighed. Christophe grunted and took the plastic bags I had fetched. He rolled the head inside the bag while he kept his own head turned away from the smell. I managed to get one arm into a bag without touching it directly; I really did not want to touch the slimy, decomposed skin. We carried the body parts outside and Christophe started to dig without a word on the farthest side of the yard a grave for the man. While he worked outside I got myself a mop and a bucket, filled with water. I began to clean the slime and dust from the floor, and afterwards opened the windows to freshen up the air.  
As I got rid of the mess I wondered where the body had come from. Through the ceiling, that was clear but how had it managed to get up to the attic without Christophe or me noticing. There had always been brownish green stain where the exit hole now was. Unless the body had been there before we had moved in, which wasn't so long ago, and the previous owners had left it there. The cause of death hadn't been so clear either, but it wasn't a time for puzzles. The sooner we got rid of the extra body, the better.  
I heard Christophe come back in as I finished mopping. We attached a black plastic bag over the hole on the ceiling; we would start to repair it tomorrow and maybe even find the reason where the body had appeared from. Christophe dusted off the table and cupboards and after it, called my name:

"Gregory." I turned my head and met his gaze. "There's some… Slime from the dead guy… On your…" he said with a frown and swiped my cheek. I kept my eyes locked to his and pursed my lips. I couldn't hold back the violent shiver going through my spine.  
In the end we never found out the identity of the slightly decomposed body which kept decomposing in our backyard. Christophe tried to use his connections to find out the truth, as did I. I carved a small cross for the grave even though Christophe tried to restrain by saying it was futile. As always, I didn't listen to his God-hating speech and to annoy him even more, I planted a small rose bush next to it. Nowadays it's blooming next to the unknown man, showing its blood red petals with pride. Even though he might not see it, I hope it gives him some comfort in the underworld.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The French part is "I'm not your dog" if someone doesn't feel like googling and doesn't know French.


	2. II Paint

Paint

Gregory let out a deep, very frustrated sigh as he watched Christophe climb down the ladder.

"Why can't you just take one shirt and one pair of trousers to paint in? That's the fourth set of clothes you've ruined this week. We get along well, but not well enough for you to ruin that kind of amount of clothes."

Christophe turned towards him with a cigarette between his lips. He took the smoking stick between his fingers and blew the smoke out of his lungs straight at Gregory's face. He knew to expect this and held his breath.

"Because I want to annoy my whiny little bitch?" he said with his eyebrow raised, waiting to see Gregory's reaction to his words. Gregory stopped leaning on the door frame with his arms crossed and walked up to him as he lectured him:

"Buying new clothes all the time isn't ecological, and getting all your clothes dirty with paint, because you don't have one pair of trousers and shirt solely for painting, isn't reasonable. Choose one set of clothing or else you start to pay for them from your own salary."

"If you're so unhappy with my way of managing this, you could pick up a brush yourself and do it yourself, you know?" Christophe pointed out. Gregory frowned and turned back towards the door, muttering:

"I… have better things to do."

Gregory, who had lost the argument, closed the door with a mild bang. Christophe stood still, letting the feeling of victory warm him from his gut. Giving out a snort he dipped the brush in the paint can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very edited. I should post these more often, but I don't really have too many of them ready... Very light one in nature. Unlike all the others.


	3. III Dreams

Dreams

Gregory floated in the darkness like he always did when he was dreaming, if you could call it that; having no feeling of movement or direction that he faced, up or down, it was all same to him. He knew, on some unconscious level, that he had been sleeping for at least couple of hours; the REM-state was coming to him. He felt a change in the temperature which was odd. He didn't see dreams often, even in REM-state. He could feel the warmth coming from behind him, but he didn't move and he just let the feeling come over him. Since he dreamed so little, he appreciated when he had a chance discover new things about himself through dreams.

The warmth began to concentrate on his neck. He could feel that it was moist, like breath. It was like there was someone behind him. Then came the hands, or at least he believed that they were the hands of the dream-person behind him. The left one was placed on his shoulder and the right sled from beneath his arm. The palm pressed against his belly and made a slow circular movement. It felt so real to him that he was amazed. He had never had a dream like this, or not that he could remember. Something new and moist pressed against his neck. Something he would even call wet. It was warm and soft and it felt so real; so real that it could be actually there. Who was behind him? He tried to turn but the hands kept him in place. He didn't have the willpower to start battling against them. He'd just have to discover the identity with his other senses. The person had rough hands, he smelled like cigarettes, therefore a smoker, and a high temperature. The only smoker close to him was Christophe, so most likely the dream-person behind him was him. But wasn't there a saying you can't smell in dreams so…

His hand jerked from under the pillow, the knife's tip pressed against the throat's soft flesh and a small drop of blood oozed out. Gregory's eyes opened just a fraction of a second after to stare into Christophe's eyes.

"That took you a while. You're becoming a bit rusty, Gregory," Christophe whispered. Gregory let his hand drop and the knife he had been holding fell to the floor with a soft clank. He stared at the ceiling and tried to relax.

"I know, I just haven't had real action for a while so it has affected my skills. Also, I've not been able to sleep well for the last couple of weeks because of all the office work I've been doing. But for God's sake Christophe, you wouldn't have had to sneak up on me like that, you know?"

Christophe hummed and lowered his face, his lips touching the ear when whispered to Gregory:

"Yes, I know, but I wanted to know how you would react in your sleep if I touched you like that."

Christophe bounced off Gregory's bed and exited the bedroom. Gregory tried to understand what he meant and then it struck to him.

_Touch you like that. Touch you… Touch you..._

Just two minutes ago, Christophe had been touching him. In a _very_ friendly manner. No, not in friendly, but in a _romantic way._ Gregory bolted up and ran after him.

"Why? Why would you want to know how I reacted?" he asked.

"I wondered if you'd like it, and it seems like I was correct; you had a very satisfied expression on your face," he answered and leaned against the hallway's wall.

"Wuh… Why did you think I'd like that? Also, I didn't have a satisfied expression, if I may point out," Gregory denied.

"Well… Maybe it's partly because I hoped you'd and you did have a happy expression when I rubbed your stomach, I saw it myself. Don't try to deny what I saw."

Gregory blinked few times before he opened his mouth again.

"Is that some kind of a love confession? And fine, maybe I did like it but just a bit."

"Call it whatever you want; I'm just stating that I'm attracted to you and wanted to know if you were against it on an unconscious level."

"Christophe, we've been working together for years and then you bring up something like this… Shouldn't we talk about this more?"

"No, I've merely told you I like you."

"But don't you want some kind of an answer?"

"I didn't ask a question."

"I think that admitting to like me, is a question of if I have similar feelings towards you."

Christophe stood silent and stared at the floor. The hallway filled with silence and Gregory shifted from his foot to other.

"…Well do you?"

"I can't say that I have considered your existence in my life from a romantic perspective, but I think that we could at least try to find out if I feel attracted to you in some level."

Christophe raised his gaze back to Gregory's face and nodded in approval.

"Can I kiss you?"

"I… I… Can we first start from hugs and such?"

Christophe mumbled something he couldn't hear and took a slow step forward. Gregory raised his hands to play with the hem of Christophe's shirt, thing was dirty as ever. He saw as Christophe's chest rose when he inhaled deeply. The hands found their place from his waist, they were so warm. Gregory let his eyes wander to the shoulder and pressed head against it. Christophe's hands tightened around him and made his body press against Christophe's own. The warmth and pressure against his waistline made him feel the sleepiness coming back. His head swayed slightly and eyes fluttered shut. Christophe seemed to notice it, and thank Lord he didn't make either of them feel like a complete idiot by carrying him to bed by bridal style, but lead him to his bedroom. He tucked him in and lay next to him circling his hand over Gregory's stomach. He shut the alarm off so Gregory wouldn't get his dreaming interrupted twice the same night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOHA, I forgot how fluffy I've written some of this shit. I thought about updating every Sunday and Thursday but unfortunately I had no energy to do it yesterday. I regret nothing. Yeeeehhh umm.... Next Thursday! Oooh, the two parter. So short that I'm gonna post them both. Ain't no need for silly cliffhangers... Pfft.


	4. IV Bomb

Bomb

"Okay, I'd say we have 40 seconds. You want to do it Mole?"

"Yeah, just... don't distract me."

Mole dropped to his knees in front of the small box. He inspected it for few seconds and opened the lid. The explosive was wrapped in plastic and a bunch of wires swirled around it, attached to different parts of the device. The timer didn't have a clock to show how much time he had left. He moved the wires carefully to see under them. Sweat formed on his forehead when more and more time went on. Gregory became worried after ten seconds. Mole had just kept observing the thing with his back to him and not saying a word.

30 seconds

"Is something wrong?" he asked. When Mole didn't answer him immediately, he became anxious.

Mole gulped and turned his face towards Gregory. Gregory saw a weird expression on his face, one he had never seen before.  
Is he… afraid?

"This isn't a normal one. I… I can't find the wire that I'm supposed to cut.

20 seconds

"You mean… We can't shut it down?"

Mole shook his head.

15 seconds

"We don't have any time to escape it either."

Mole closed his eyes and nodded. They were doomed, absolutely, completely doomed.

"Bloody Hell!"

"Désolé, Gregory," Mole said quietly.

10 seconds

"Don't be. Oh Christophe, I'm sorry that you have to die again."

"At least not by guard dogs and I'm with you."

5 seconds

They gave halfhearted smiles to each other. Gregory wrapped his arms quickly around Christophe.

3 seconds

2 seconds

1 second

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, second part of this drabble comes out tomorrow if I feel like it. Matriculation exams in Finnish ain't gonna improve my mood so... Yeah. We'll see.


	5. V Bluff

Bluff

"It should have gone off and blown us up by now."

"Yes."

"It was a bluff wasn't it?"

"Seems like it"

Gregory fell right on his bum. Mole's eyes turned to stare at the Wretched Box of Misery, as he decided to call it.

"Well… Uh, if there is nothing more in here we can do, we should be leaving then. Might make it home for dinner," Gregory chatted, trying to gain his composure. Mole hummed in an accepting manner. Gregory stood up still a bit shakily because of adrenaline and emotion rush. Mole grabbed the box and staggered up.

"You… what exactly are you planning to do with that thing?"

"I'm going to keep. I have an emotional bond with it now. It's the only thing that has ever made you admit that you love me."

Gregory shook his head in disbelief.

"First, I never said that I love you; that is all your imagination. Second, I really do not wish to see that God forsaken thing again in my whole life. Third, for God's sake  
Christophe, do not start creating bonds with inanimate objects, I don't want you to start naming sticks and pots with unique names.

"Too late, I already named it. Its name is Wretched Box of Misery. Quite fitting, eh? Also, if you could stop referring to that cocksucking asshole so often?"

Gregory let out a frustrated moan and stomped away. Mole petted the box and said:

"Don't worry, he'll calm down soon."

"Don't talk to it like it understands you! It's ridiculous!"

"Not as ridiculous as you, refusing to admit that you love me."

Gregory frowned.

"So if I say that I love you, you'll leave the box?"

"Could be."

"Fine, I do love you. Now put that thing down, please!"

Mole gave him a crooked smile.

"I said could be, not that I would. It's nice that you finally came out of the closet."

Gregory gave out a frustrated yell.

"I told you, it's the Wretched Box of Misery."

Gregory had never hated an inanimate object in his life as much as he hated that box.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exams fucking piss me off. Next one up is my favourite drabble of all time... I fucking love that thing. Fuck. So much fucking cussing right now. I'll see how this fucking goes, because I got another fic idea for the SnK fandom... And if that fucking works out and doesn't fuck me in the ass, I might get my first fucking multichapter out. Wowfuckingwee.


	6. VI Drunk

Drunk

"I'm telling you: that man is going to be the death of me!" Gregory slurred.

"Gregory, please. You're drunk. You should go home, get a glass of water and go to sleep," Wendy begged him as she tried to keep him from falling of his bar stool. Gregory shook his head and rested his forehead in his hands, taking support from the counter.

"Woman, I'm nowhere near being drunk and I don't want to go home. He could still be there with his stinking cigarettes and muddy shoes. I don't know how I've put up with him for so long," he muttered and massaged his temples.

"Yes, you've said that five times during this evening. And you shouldn't be the one whining, I'm the one who is putting up with you. Also, the reason you have always come up with is because-"

"- I love him, I know. I'm sorry Wendy; I just had to let out some steam after so long. Maybe I should listen to your advice and just go home before I can't even stand straight."

Wendy bit the inside of her cheek as she tried not to mention Gregory's inability to even sit straight. She helped him to put on his coat and lead him through the busy bar to the exit. At the door Gregory bid her goodbye, and she couldn't help but pray for him as she watched Gregory stumble forward to his home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Week was hectic so no updatings on time... Sorry. Touching with unprotected sexicles in the next chapter.


	7. VII Fight & Peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get very gay and very porn, okay?

Fight & Peace

While lighting his cigarette, Christophe watched as group of loudly laughing and singing men stumbled onto the street out of a local bar. The men seemed wonderfully wasted; enough to be slow and not remember him in the morning. He had enough time to enjoy his cigarette halfway before the men were just few meters away from him. He was ready to make his move but to his surprise, one of the men called out to him.

"Hey! Hey kiddo! Share a cig, will ya?"

The man came towards him, his feet wobbly and face plastered with a stupid smile. Christophe glared at them man. Kiddo? The man himself was maybe in his thirties, he had no right to call him a kiddo.

"Go buy your own smokes, bitch", he snarled. The man's brows furrowed as he tried to make out what he had said. The heavy accent was making it hard for him to understand the words, especially with his brain filled with alcohol. The other men, five of them, seemed to notice the change in the atmosphere and came closer.

"A foreigner, eh? We don't take kindly to outsiders who act rude when we try to be nice. Especially to some French-Canadian flabberheads," the man spat, making the other men start to surround him. One of them even got so into it that he broke the bottom of his empty bottle. The chime of the glass filled the alleyway.

"Kiddo, how 'bout we make a deal? We teach you to respect yer elders and afterwards, we forget about what happened. Simple as that, but… First we start with teaching you some fucking manners!" the man yelled as he dashed towards him with his fist raised. Christophe saw rage crunch the face in to an ugly mask. The Godfather act hadn't affected him which seemed to make the man even angrier. After dodging the blow the other men seemed to come alive and began attacking him. He kept on dodging and blocking until he came tired of his little game with the drunkards.

When he landed his first punch in one of their faces, nose scrunching under his fist. Suddenly the whole group seemed to lose their ability to move and stared at him in stupor. Christophe kept kicking and punching the tired, very slowly and ineffectively blocking group until they were on the ground whimpering and holding their bloody noses, gasping for air. It didn't take much from him to pass through their defenses, breaking few arms in the process. 

Christophe cracked his knuckles, rolled his shoulder couple of time and inspected the few blows that actually had hit home on his body. One of them still dared to try shoving a piece of glass towards his legs, hoping to injure him in revenge. He stepped out of his way and watched him fall down on his side, groaning and muttering profanities. He lit a second cigarette and took a deep inhale, feeling as indifferent as ever. The man's knee was invitingly in reach, so Christophe stepped on the man's fingers before lowering his free foot on the kneecap. Making sure he'd stomp on the right spot, he raised his leg and slammed his foot right on the man's kneecap. The man screamed like a pig in slaughter as his knee popped out of place and crunched under the boot. Christophe had shut his eyes and looked like he was hearing something close to erotic. 

After waking up from his daze he began to make his way back home, cursing as he saw Gregory at their door step, sitting next to their door, stinking of alcohol. Gregory gave him a half-hearted smile and saluted him.

"How long have you sat there? Couldn't you get inside by yourself?" Christophe asked not sounding as emotionless as he would have liked.

"Oh, a couple of minutes… or hours, not sure. Forgot the keys," Gregory snickered. Christophe took him by his hand and dragged him up. He made a disapproving noise as the stink wafted off of Gregory's clothes.

"You stink," he stated. Gregory raised his brows, not amused.

"And you're dirty."

Christophe growled and unlocked the door while keeping Gregory standing.

"You're not going to sleep next to me unless you're taking a shower and brush your teeth. Twice," Christophe said to him.

Gregory leaned against the wall, hand on his hip.

"Twice what? Brush my teeth or take a shower?"

"Twice both now that I think of it."

Gregory took his jacket off and threw it on the floor. Then he began to unbutton his shirt in quite the fast speed, considering his state. Christophe stared at him, and Gregory stared him back.

"What?"

"What what? I didn't say anything. But since you laid your own rules, I'm going to lay mine: you take a shower with me since I'm not going to sleep next to you if you intend to stay the night in muddy and bloody clothes."

Christophe growled but kicked his shoes off and began to walk towards the bathroom. Gregory shook his shirt off and followed him.

"Don't act like you don't like taking showers with me. I know you do."

"Stop talking. Your breath stinks."

Gregory pouted in a very childish way. He threw his trousers into Christophe's face and stomped into the shower. Christophe threw the trousers on the floor, stripped himself off of his clothes and followed Gregory into the shower.

"You know that if you make me angry I'll just fuck you harder." Christophe leaned against Gregory's back and bit his ear. Gregory turned the water tap on and reached for the soap.

"What if that's my goal?" he asked as he placed his head under the cold water. Christophe took the soap from his hand and lathered a sponge. He scrubbed Gregory's back with it not in a very gentle manner. When he was ready he gave the sponge to Gregory who finished scrubbing himself in a few minutes. He threw the sponge to Christophe who lathered it again and scrubbed the dirt and blood off of his body. Gregory stepped under the shower and let the lather flow down to the sewer. When he finished, he stepped out of Christophe's way and exited the shower to brush his teeth. Christophe let the water flow over him as he listened to Gregory brush his teeth. He leaned against the wall and waited for Gregory to re-enter the shower.

"Am I clean enough now or do I have to take another shower and brush my teeth twice?" he asked from Christophe and leaned forward. Their chests touched and Christophe took an inhale to judge if Gregory had to brush his teeth once more. He shook his head and decided it was time for their makeup sex. He wrapped his arms around Gregory's waist and traced his lips down from his jaw line to his throat and bit down. Gregory gave a satisfied moan and put his hands on Christophe's shoulders. He kissed him when Christophe's neck straightened up. Neither of them shut their eyes but kept staring at the other intensely, daring to end the kiss. They both moved their heads backwards taking in the features of the person that made them so angry but also so very happy.

Gregory felt the anger from their latest fight disappear as he stared at the cuts and bruises on Christophe's torso. He touched them lightly, examining if any of them was serious and needed treatment. Christophe noticed his worried expression, sighed heavily and kissed him quickly on his lips to get his attention elsewhere. Gregory let his mind slip reluctantly from the injuries back to what they were planning on doing at first. He turned the tap and began to stumble backwards to get to their bedroom while trying to kiss Christophe as much as possible. Both of them were slowly letting their consciousness and pride stay behind and let their minds be just a horny puddle filled with want to be closer to the other.

They collapsed on the bed, skin on goose bumps when the evaporating water left their skin cold. They tried to make each other feel warmer by roaming their hands over the skin and causing friction which made them feel pleasure from the touch.

Christophe's hands wandered lower on Gregory's body, tickling his sides the way he knew that Gregory liked, towards his thighs, spreading them and gaining access to his rear.

"Mmh… You wanna… top tonight?" Gregory asked in between the times that Christophe's tongue dipped inside his mouth. Christophe licked Gregory's bottom lip and asked in turn:

"Do you mind if I do?"

Gregory raised his hip and moaned loudly when his erection felt pressure from Christophe. Christophe interpreted it as a no, and ground back, pushing Gregory's hips back down. He tried to find the bottle of lube and fortunately found it in between the pillows. Gregory snatched the bottle from his hands and took the top off with his teeth. Christophe had a crooked smile when he realised what Gregory was intending on doing. He watched Gregory coat his finger with the substance, lot of it dripping down his arm. Christophe pulled back to see better when Gregory's finger pushed inside his hole. Gregory pushed it as far as he could before adding another finger. This time he frowned from the uncomfortable feeling, but didn't stop and added the third finger, trying to stretch them as wide as possible. It was a bit hard because the muscles were strong and the pain made it hard to concentrate but he kept on, he knew he had to or it would be hard for Christophe to even enter, not to mention the pain he would feel himself.

Christophe kept on staring, not really doing anything else. He liked to watch Gregory like this, but Gregory didn't like to play with himself unless he was drunk, which Christophe found disappointing. He just had to make up for all the missed times when Gregory got drunk and he could watch him push slimy fingers inside himself. Gregory added even a fourth finger, trying to make his muscles as loose as possible. He panted from the exhaustion and glanced at Christophe. He saw him staring, concentrated on his fingers that kept on stretching him. He pushed his thumb inside and felt ultimate pleasure as he saw Christophe's eyes gleam with hunger and couldn't hold a moan in. Christophe seemed to wake up from his trance and shifted his eyes to Gregory's face and saw his hazy eyes watching him.

"Are you ready?"

"I think so."

Gregory winced as he pulled his fingers out. Christophe took the bottle of lube again and coated his erection carefully. When he was ready, he wrapped one of his arms around Gregory's waist and lifted his hips up with the help of Gregory who pressed his back heavier against the bed and tried to spread his legs for Christophe to have more space in between his legs. Christophe directed his erection with his free hand to Gregory's entrance.

"Slow inside and don't move when you're all the way!" Gregory breathed out before Christophe pushed in.

"I know cher."

Christophe controlled his urge to slam in and pushed inside as killingly slow as he could. Gregory moaned from pleasure and closed his eyes, rolling his head from side to side. Christophe kept on pushing until he was all the way in, this time resisting the urge to pull back and slam right in. Gregory took deep breaths, trying to relax his lower back from the strain. When he had been like that for few seconds he opened his mouth:

"I think it is okay for you to move now."

Christophe pulled back quickly, he knew that it hurt Gregory more when he pulled back and heard Gregory wince quite loudly. He pushed back in slowly, making Gregory moan again. His pull backs remained as quick but the pushes became quicker, the pressure adding on Gregory's walls and making Christophe hit his prostate. Gregory's muscles tensed and he let out a small yelp in between gasps for air. Christophe flipped Gregory on his stomach and pushed himself from an angle that hit the prostate more easily. Gregory muffled his screams to the pillows. The bed hit the wall, most likely waking their neighbour, even though they had tried to sound proof their walls. Gregory tangled his hands in the sheets, his breathing coming out in heavy pants. The sound of a body hitting another, loud moans, pants and grunts were the only noises that could be heard for a long time. Christophe's hands gripped his hips so hard that it hurt and Gregory knew that Christophe would soon gain his orgasm, so he tensed his body to build his own pleasure up faster. Christophe hitting his prostate made the pain fade away. Christophe slammed into Gregory as hard as he could, hitting Gregory's sweet spot dead on and causing Gregory to have his orgasm. His walls tightened around Christophe's erection making Christophe have his orgasm right after Gregory. Christophe lowered himself to lay on Gregory's back. Their hearts beat irregularly but were beginning to pace themselves from the strain. After a while of lazily lying on top of Gregory, Christophe began to feel cold. He rolled off of the bed and put on a shirt he found lying on the floor.

Gregory stirred up from his afterglow as the warmth from his back disappeared. He saw Christophe's naked arse being covered by a pair of boxers and trousers. He watched as Christophe took a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his drawer, too lazy to even mention his dislike when he lighted the cigarette inside the house. After a minute of silence he noticed that his hips were aching, the sperm on his body began to itch and his body reacted to the loss of alcohol which had already burned in his system, creeping headache making its way up his neck. He rolled on his side, moaning from the pain, and waved his hand sluggishly on the mattress to catch Christophe's attention. Christophe glanced towards him but before he leaned closer after he took a deep drag from his cigarette and exhaled the smoke towards the ceiling. Gregory whispered to his ear in a pitiful manner:

"Be sweetie and get me damp cloth, I need to get your cum out of my arse. Also, could you get me a glass of water and some painkillers? Thank you darling."  
He kissed Christophe's cheek and Christophe petted his hair in confirmation. He couldn't resist when Gregory was in such a state, so pitiful and weak. He took a small towel from the bathroom, soaked it under the tap and rolled it. He took a glass for the water and filled it with as cold water as he could get straight from the tap, wet his cigarette stump and dropped it in the trash can, searched for pain killers from the first aid kit and returned to Gregory's side. Gregory kept on staring at his hand that was extended with the damp cloth, not taking it but waiting patiently for Christophe to take the hint. Finally Christophe sighed and began to gently tap the sperm which was oozing out from between Gregory's buttocks. When Gregory was wiped clean from behind Christophe rolled him without a warning on his back and began cleaning his stomach's stains. Gregory moaned when Christophe moved him and gave him a glare.

"You should do it yourself if you don't like me doing it," Christophe said without looking at him. Gregory said nothing back. Christophe threw the cloth on the floor, gave Gregory his pain killers and glass of water, helping him sit up. Gregory bit the pills in half before swallowing them, hoping they'd have a quicker effect and tried to get rid of the taste by drinking the water. He put the empty glass on the bedside table and kissed Christophe as a thank you. He wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him down to lie with him on the bed, hoping that Christophe would be as sleepy as him. Christophe pulled the blanket from beneath Gregory's back, covered them both with it and curled as close as possible to Gregory.

"You aren't going to start brushing your feet on the carpet outside before you enter the apartment, are you?" Gregory asked Christophe and yawned.

"Mm… No," Christophe mumbled and snuggled closer to him, breathing to the crook of his neck.

"And you aren't going to start to buy groceries, are you?" Christophe asked from Gregory. Gregory snickered and slapped Christophe's head playfully.

"Of course not. That'd mean I would have given in, and I'm never going to give in."

"Well neither am I. There are still many visits to the bar that wait for you, since you can't handle things like a grown up."

"Like you're one to talk; beating alcoholics in dark alleys, that's so mature. Now shut up and let me sleep."

"Fine, but this is far from over. G'night."

"Night."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2700+ words long and 5 pages, yes officer, this is a drabble, just look at it, it's in the drabble-section, look. Yeah, hope you enjoyed my drunken Gregory and immature Christophe. I have to write more porn soon. As soon as I get my things going again.


	8. VIII Loss

Loss

Gregory moved through the mass, heading to the direction where he had seen a familiar figure, celebrating the end of war.

"Stan! Have you seen Mole? I need to speak with him," he asked as he tugged on the sleeve of Stan's jacket. Stan turned towards with a joyful grin and cocked his head.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that. What did you say?"

"I said I need to speak to Mole. Do you know where he is?" he repeated. Stan's grin turned to thoughtful in a few seconds before it switched to frown. Gregory felt his stomach drop when Stan got fidgety and casted his eyes downwards.

"Shit… Uh… Um, he kind of… Well… It's Cartman's fault you know! He didn't switch the alarm off and… Then the guard dogs… The tunnel he had dug for Terrance and Phillip to escape through…" Stan mumbled while shifting from a foot to another and looking everywhere else but at Gregory. Gregory's posture stiffened and he changed his tone to a cold, business-y one:

"What has happened to him Stan?"

"You see, the guard dogs kind of like followed him to the tunnel, when the alarm went off and he like, didn't make it out in time…"

Gregory shut his eyes to collect his thoughts for a second. When he opened them, he looked at Stan with unbelief.

"So you screwed up a mission, which was fairly easy, and let him just die? He was stuck in a tunnel and it never occurred to you that maybe, just maybe you could go and help him? Fuck you Stan, fuck you and your incapable, idiot friends," Gregory growled and turned away. Before he even got far enough he heard Wendy exclaim "Fuck Gregory! Fuck him right in the ear!"

'Bitch, it's not me who you should be saying that to. Fuck your little pussy boyfriend who gets people killed, because he can't do a damn thing on his own.'

He didn't let himself show out more than an angry frown. He decided to get Mole's body before anyone else got to him. He had seen the plan Mole had made, where to invade the arena, so he figured that he'd be somewhere around the tunnel or around it, lying in the snow, covered in blood, chunks of flesh ripped off of him. Gregory felt his eyes water and he bit his lip. He had friends but Christophe was someone he had been able to work with flawlessly. They shared a different kind of bond, one of trust and partnership. He trusted Christophe with his whole heart, no matter what the subject might be. Christophe had trusted him and… He had been the one to send him to his early death.

He sniffed and looked around for the tunnel. He was quite sure it would be around somewhere there. He peeked behind a warehouse, eyes falling straight on the tunnel. He noticed a lot of footprints and strange formation in the snow. Christophe was most likely in the tunnel if he wasn't out of it. He squatted on the side and stared into the muddy darkness, gently caressing the edge of the hole. It was Mole's last tunnel; there wouldn't be any tunnels after this. He slid inside, clumsy from the weighting sorrow, not bothering to look out for his clothes. The tunnel smelled like Christophe, of dirt and cigarettes, but also like blood and dogs: big dogs and a lot of blood. Gregory felt his way forward, trying to get something else in his hands than dirt. Dirt fell on him from the roof, mixing into his hair, mud soaking his pants and small rocks hurting against his palms and knees when he tried to get forward. He felt the stench of blood becoming stronger and stronger, making him think of what he might find. The thought made him shiver and gag, acid coming up his throat but he managed to swallow it back down. He had to get Christophe out no matter what. He was not going to leave him alone down there.

His fingers were getting numb from the cold even through his gloves, so when he felt fabric between his fingers he couldn't believe it at first. He drew his hand away quickly and pressed it against his body. He felt like he had been electrocuted. There, right in front of him, was most likely Christophe's dead body. He relaxed slightly and extended his arm forward to confirm his thoughts, caressing the side. Christophe felt soft and so cold, and Gregory's breaths became shorter and irregular. Tears streamed down his face when he hugged the body.

"Ugh, what the Hell?"

Gregory screamed and fell backwards when the body sat up and called out in the darkness:

"Gregory? Is that you or am I just feeling and hearing things?"

All of a sudden a lighter flickered and casted light over Christophe's face. The light blinded them both but Gregory didn't let that stop him from screeching:

"The bloody Hell, Christophe! I thought you were dead as a rock! Stan told me that you were eaten by guard dogs after the alarm went off. How come you're alive all of a sudden?"

Christophe shaded his eyes with his arm and tried to see Gregory. He didn't answer clearly, just mumbled something incoherent about Satan and wishes and fucking guard dogs. When he was finally able to see Gregory's face, he frowned in confusion and worry.

"Are you crying?"

Christophe leaned forward and touched Gregory's face. Gregory noticed his lip was trembling and he bit it, trying to hold down a sob.

"I… I thought you were dead."

Christophe caressed his cheek and whispered:

"But I'm not, so you don't have to cry. Shh, Gregory, I'm fine, I'm just fine. I just crawled in here to get away from the snow and the wind since I didn't have the energy move around. Shh, everything is okay, I'm all right."

Gregory shook his head before wrapping his arms around Christophe and squeezing as hard as he could, breaking down harder than ever before, sobbing his heart out and bawling to express his sorrow.

"It's my fault; I sent you to die! I could have lost you forever because I sent you here with only idiots who ruined it all!"

Christophe rested his head on Gregory's shaking shoulder, lighting a candle he had put next to him and dropping the lighter on the ground, to wrap his both hands around Gregory, trying to calm him down

"It's not your fault; I just shouldn't have trusted them and accepted the mission. Before you even start thanking God, he's a little bitch and probably enjoyed seeing me suffer in the teeth of those fucking guard dogs. But can we just sit here before going home? I don't feel like moving yet. Besides, these new furs are quite warm."

Gregory sniffed one last time and gave Christophe a weak smile.

"You had you revenge on the dogs by skinning them? Sometimes you are just so cruel… But fine, we can stay here for a while if you want to. Just let me hold you for a while."

"You can hold me as long as you want."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't remember writing any of this. Been too long. Also I'm sick so I don't feel like checking much. Might do it when I'm not feverish anymore. Just wanted to update after so long...


	9. IX Last Straw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things... They are not gonna go well.

Last Straw

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm packing", Christophe replied to the frowning Gregory who stood at the door. Christophe was folding a shirt into his bag, not letting his eyes look at his lover. Gregory gave out a humourless laugh and showed him a disbelieving smile.

"You're going again? Christophe, do I really have to remind you of what day it is tomorrow?" Gregory asked threateningly. Christophe's eyes darkened and he bit the inside of his cheek. Straightening himself up he replied:

"No, you do not. I know that it's the anniversary."

"Usually people say our anniversary", Gregory said obviously hurt. They had been fighting a lot these past months. Christophe was travelling after his job and Gregory usually stayed home. He didn't want to fight again but seeing Christophe leaving the day before their anniversary made him snap, so bad.

"Gregory, don't start bitching about that kind of stuff again. We have never really celebrated it, so there is no reason for you to start weeping over one missed time."

Gregory stared at him, his lips parted and soon starting to quiver. Christophe felt a headache creeping up from his spine annoying him even more.

"Stop that show, no one is here to see it. I'm leaving, the end. That pathetic puppy-look isn't working on me. I'm tired of this shit. I know you were going to go serve your mother, because she is so very, very stressed. "Gregory! Give me the Champaign bottle; I can't do it with my manicured fingers!" You were going to sneak out as soon as I turned my back!" Christophe accused him, face twisted with anger. Gregory gritted his teeth.

"My mother is sick, and you know it very well. Unlike you, I care enough about my family to take care of them when they need me. She has taken care of me and it's my turn to take care of her", Gregory said, furious. Christophe was allowed to mock him but he did not have the right to ridicule his mother.

"Oh really? Tell me Gregory, where was she with her over-stuffed purse, when we were kicked out of our apartment? We were starving, while she was trying to decide, IF SHE SHOULD PUT CAVIAR OR TRUFFEL ON HER FUCKING CRACKER! She hasn't done a shit for our well-being!"

"She was the one who recommended us to the owner of that apartment!"

"We were kicked out because of the motherfucking poodle she brought over, even if it was clear that it wasn't allowed! The fucking police came in questioning us about some illegal animal-farm! It was this close my cover wasn't blown."

Gregory's eyes narrowed and he took two steps towards the brunette. Christophe was flushed from rage and breathing irregularly. When Gregory had reached him he whispered:

"Don't you dare say another bad word about my mother. I'm sick of you bad-mouthing me, her and my family. Now, if you are done packing, it'd be the best for you to leave now. When you come back we will settle when you can move out."

Christophe didn't say anything more; he just grabbed his bag from the bed and jacket from the chair next to it and left the room banging the door shut behind him. Gregory stayed still and listened to the angry stomps fading away, and the exterior door shutting with a similar bang as the other. He waited until he heard the car leaving from the yard and let his tears start flowing down his flushed cheeks. He put a hand in front of his mouth to muffle his sobs, even though there was no one listening. Slumping to the bed, shoulders shaking, he let all of his pain come out in desperate sobs. He gasped for air to be able to cry more and when he felt he couldn't breathe he forced himself to calm down. Regaining his stoic attitude he wiped away his tears and smoothed the wrinkles off of his shirt. He still had to call his mother to inform her about his arrival that evening.

I'll call her and then I'll water the plants...I should probably wash the dishes while I'm at it. Then I'll have to pack myself... Stand straight Gregory, you'll be just fine.

A couple of blocks away, Christophe was speeding through the empty main road. It was too early for anyone else to be driving at that hour, so he didn't have to worry about hitting another car or a pedestrian. When he reached the other side of the town he killed the engine.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit. He really meant it, didn't he?

Christophe sighed out loud and let his head hit the steering wheel. He really had screwed up for the last time.

He's really going to kick me out isn't he? What the fuck has happened?

Without meaning to, he sled his hand against his pocket to feel the corner of his pack of cigarettes. He took it out, shook it twice, and pulled the cigarette out. He threw the pack to the backseat; put the unlighted cigarette between his lips. He raised his head   
before he flipped his lighter open, and right before he was going to light it, all his movements stopped. He blinked his eyes as he snapped out of his trance.

"No… no, no, no, no!"

The thought of Gregory nagging about his cigarettes and the smoke and lung cancer was the last thing that he needed and of course it had to be only thing he could think of.

Can't a man have a fucking cigarette without having to suffer from memories?!

Christophe spat the cigarette out of the open window, forced the fresh happening brutally from his consciousness, and decided he had wasted enough time on useless self-pity. He started the car and slammed his foot on the paddle. The car screeched from the stress.

I'll work this shit out with him when I come back. I have to do this job first, I need the money more than I need him right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, took a while again. But I've almost graduated, few weeks left, so maybe I might write some more..? Just maybe. And finish rewriting/adding the old ones. This made me cry when I wrote it. Just letting you know.


	10. X Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do I want them to constantly break up? I do not know. Perhaps I like to see them suffer.

I touched his white collarshirt. My finger went over a very little and hard-to-spot red stain. I knew what it was, I had seen a few of them before. My heart, hard as steel, wavered even if I didn't let it show on my face. I put the shirt into the laundry machine with the other laundry. I added the powder, shut the lid and pressed the button, making the machine roar and start washing the clothes. The fabric twirled on the other side of the window, and my eyes followed the roll without a flinch. I was destroying the evidence, I knew that, but there was no use for it since I wasn't going to say anything about it to him. I could tell that he was getting sloppier; he didn't cover his tracks as well as he did in the beginning. I'm quite sure that I didn't realise it in the beginning since I'm not as intelligent as he is, but he has started to underestimate me and my wits. I knew. Oh I knew.

Gregory was having an affair. It was clear as daylight to me these days. I don't know if I would be happier not knowing.

I closed my eyes and gripped the edge of the mechanical cube. I was not going to whine about such a little thing after what I've been through. I've survived from so much, it'd seem so idiotic to say anything about a little heartbreak. I couldn't give them the pleasure of seeing me hurt.

Who are they? Why can't I seem hurt? Suddenly I felt confused. I was hurt, so why couldn't I show it? Who would think I'm pathetic and weak? Who am I afraid of?

Loneliness. I don't want to be alone. If I say something to him, it gives him the reason to leave me. I couldn't or else I'd end up alone.

I owe him so much. So many happy days he has given to me. I'd be disrespecting everything we have if I did something like that.

I'll take it. I'll take all this shit as much as I can and I'll hold him up on my own expense. Until I break.

Why? Do I love him? I've loved him, but do I love him anymore?

My head overheated and my defenses crumbled down. He hasn't looked at me in the eye for three weeks. He hasn't touched me for four. We haven't spoken to each other for five days. He stopped leaving messages to me long ago.   
There was nothing left.

So I'm willing to sacrifice my happiness, for the love, I've already lost..?

I slumped against the shaking laundry machine. It was no secret that I was dependant of Gregory and his existence. He didn't need me. I could leave. I could leave.

The realisation made my head snap up. I stared at the wall before me with some kind of relief in my heart. He wouldn't really mind if I left and he would manage just well without me. If I were true to myself, I had been living alone for long time now. I could manage without him even if I hadn't believed it. There was nothing more between us so it was time to let go of that idea of possible love remaining.

I forced myself to stand straight again but without the weight of an idle debt.

"I am free," I whispered. My voice cracked when it struck me harder than ever. I felt like I had been pulled away from the old world into space where there is nothing familiar. The place was cold, giant and scary but also empty. From emptiness it all begins, and I imagined how I'd rent my own apartment, away from the city. I could move away, perhaps to the French part of Canada, where I could speak my mother tongue without worry. I could forget about the awful America and its annoying accents. I could get a new job, one at a construction company perhaps. I could make new friends, go to bar with them just like Greogry did. I wouldn't have to be alone. But I'd have to leave Gregory behind.

Am I strong enough to be the one to leave? He most likely has almost forgotten my existence: I might not need to leave a note. I can't leave my new address, one word from him and I'll come back, crawling and begging to be forgiven.

No more, no more can I do such a thing.

In half an hour I left the house half-cleaned, passport in my pocket and wallet in the other.

I am free.

**Author's Note:**

> These've been published in FFNET before but as I post them here, I'll be re-reading them and making changes. Especially to the ANs. If inspiration is kind on me, I might write more again. It has been a very long time... If I do write more, I've gone worse for weird kinks and gore. Fair warning for those who do not like such. For now it's pretty safe though.


End file.
